How Sweet It Is
by Pied Piper
Summary: Signing her young son up for football seemed like a good idea at the time. And then she met his coach.
1. Chapter 1

**How Sweet It Is**

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Signing her young son up for football seemed like a good idea at the time. And then she met his coach. And now she's wondering what she's gotten herself into. AU

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**Author's Note**: Shoot me. 

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

**Miscellaneous Blah**: If anyone of you have read "City of Kings," you might recognize a certain original character of mine. Also, this short story is loosely based on the Scottish film _Dear Frankie_. The title comes from the old song, "How Sweet It Is" and has absolutely no relation to the 1960s movie of the same name.

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She promised herself it wouldn't happen again. Seeing the look on Keitaro's face—how he'd tried to mask his disappointment just so she wouldn't feel too bad—she swore right then and there that this would never, ever happen again. 

But it did.

Again and again.

She was starting to wonder if maybe something was wrong with her.

Walking quickly up the stairs, jacket pulled tight around her slender body, zipped up to the chin, she did nothing but silently scream at herself, furious and frustrated and ashamed. She should know better than this. She was supposed to be his mother, for Christ's sake. She was supposed to be there for him, always.

But no matter how hard she tried, the world just seemed determined to screw her over.

Coming to the apartment door finally, she pulled off her wool glove and knocked rapidly on the door.

It took a minute, but her friend finally answered.

Hikari smiled sweetly up at her, sympathetic. "Mimi, so good to see you."

"Sorry about this," she began to apologize, but the younger brunette wouldn't hear of it.

"Things happen," she dismissed easily. "And besides, Kei is welcome here anytime, and so are you. Come in for some tea, will you?"

It was tempting, and she knew Hikari's tea was legendary throughout their small circle of friends, but she wouldn't let herself give in. She deserved some kind of punishment for making this mistake again.

So she shook her head, smiling lightly. "Thanks, but it's getting late."

Hikari sighed. "If you're sure—,"

She was interrupted by her husband, "Mimi! Hey," Takeru grinned at her, blond hair a mess, as usual. "Hungry? I made dinner."

She smiled again.

"No, thanks," she said politely. "I just came to pick up Kei."

"Sure," he said, turning away. He yelled into the apartment, "Keitaro! Let's go!"

She returned her attentions back to Hikari, "Again, 'Kari, thank you so much for looking after him."

"No trouble at all, Mimi. He loves it here."

And then the subject in question appeared, toting a navy blue schoolbag behind him. With honey brown curls and a cheerful disposition, ten-year-old Tachikawa Keitaro was already growing up to be like his mother. Except for the striking green eyes. It was the only thing she was glad his father had given him. Everything else—the bicycle, the clothes, the books, the money—she either donated to charity or returned. She didn't want them to have anything to do with that man anymore.

She leaned forward with a wink. "Hey, ready to go?"

"Yeah," said Kei, shouldering his abnormally large schoolbag. He didn't say anything else and she studied him for a minute, hesitating. With a sigh, she straightened and told him to say goodbye to Hikari and Takeru. He did, then quietly slipped past her and into the hallway.

Hikari offered her a sympathetic smile, and she nodded her gratitude again.

Kei was already inside the lift by the time she got to the end of the hall. She was about to make him take the stairs, believing it was a healthier workout, but took another look at him and changed her mind. Biting her lip, she pressed the button to the lobby and glanced at her son again.

He was leaning on the side of the lift, staring at the lighted numbers flashing as they passed each floor.

She sighed, shutting her eyes. "Kei, I'm sorry. There was—,"

"—a thing at the restaurant," he answered, but not in a bitter tone. Just a wistful one.

She flinched, hating herself even more. Some days she wished he would fight back, be angry, rebel like normal adolescent kids. She deserved it, after all. But he never even raised his voice, showed any resentment.

"Hey, look at me," she said.

He did, glancing up unblinkingly.

She ran a hand through his curly hair, pulling him closer affectionately. "I'm going to make this up to you."

Keitaro smiled through his long bangs. "Mum, I'm fine. I like hanging out with Ms. Takaishi. I help her clean up the classroom and organize assignments for the next day. And Mr. Takaishi plays basketball with me—indoors sometimes, too," he added with a grin. "I'm not upset."

She knew he wasn't; it took a lot to get Kei riled up about anything. Unfortunately, she broke at the slightest hint of a strain. But she'd gotten much better, much more independent. If her old college friends saw her now, they wouldn't have recognized her. A divorced single mother—

She shook her head, refusing to fall into that mental rut again.

She brushed his bangs aside, making a mental note to give him a trim soon.

"Well, I'm glad you had fun, but I like it better when you're having fun with me. So name anything, and we'll do it."

Kei rolled his eyes, "Mum, I'm fine."

"Anything," she insisted, wanting to please him.

He traced the glass buttons with a small finger, still smiling. "Well…."

"I knew it," she laughed. "Something's on your mind, isn't it? I know you've had an eye on that new bike in the store for a while—,"

"I want to play football."

She stopped, caught off guard.

He was still poking the buttons, careful not to press too hard.

"Football?" she repeated blankly.

"Yeah…." He glanced at her, hopeful but cautious. "I've been meaning to ask you about it for a while. There's a sports club that a friend of mine plays for. He said the coach is holding tryouts on Saturday."

She stared. "Saturday. As in, the day after tomorrow?"

He nodded sheepishly, grinning.

She shook her head, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Why do I feel like you just tricked me?"

He kept grinning, green eyes twinkling mischievously.

She grabbed his arm, pulling him into a headlock and tickling him. "I can't believe you!"

"I had to!" he protested, laughing. "Mum, I know you love me, but you get so worried about everything that I didn't think you'd let me tryout unless you felt you owed it to me…."

She groaned, "Oh, my God, I'm raising the world's next dictator—,"

He craned his neck to meet her gaze. "So can I?"

She hesitated. "You promise not to break anything?"

"I promise," he wrinkled his nose, amused.

She kissed his forehead, hugging him tightly.

The lift's doors opened, reaching the lobby. A tall man with unkempt brown hair chatting into a cell phone was standing outside, attention completely distracted.

Keitaro had entered the age of embarrassment, and quickly pushed his mother's arm off him shyly. She just rolled her eyes, making a face at him, which he made right back, just as the man on the cell phone looked towards the lift. He stared, pausing in his conversation, eyebrow raised.

She paid him no attention, no longer bothered by those kinds of looks, even though a bit of her was miffed; after all, it was none of the stranger's business and he certainly didn't need to stare so openly.

Keitaro, on the other hand, quickly walked out of the lift, heading to the doors.

She sighed, amused, wondering what her son would be like once the teenage rebellious state hit, imaging all the embarrassing ploys she could torture him with in front of his friends. Well, maybe that was a bit harsh. But she always did like a bit of fun.

She glanced at the stranger as they passed each other, him entering and her exiting.

He looked her up and down and then winked openly, hiding nothing of his thoughts.

Her mouth dropped open, too shocked to be offended.

He smirked, turning his attentions away as he resumed his phone conversation.

"Mum!" Keitaro was whining now, impatient to leave.

She blinked out of her stunned trance, annoyed again. She glared at the closed doors of the lift, coming to the conclusion that nothing would ever change about pathetically desperate men. Or rather, the entire male sex was idiotic, but that was just the law of nature. Take her ex as an example.

Convincing herself of this, she turned and marched to the doors, clasping Kei by the hand to walk him home.

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	2. Chapter 2

**How Sweet It Is**

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Signing her young son up for football seemed like a good idea at the time. And then she met his coach. And now she's wondering what she's gotten herself into. AU

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

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Yagami Taichi was pretty sure God hated him. 

Up until about two seconds ago, he only suspected, but now he was convinced.

"Well," said his assistant coach, Motomiya Daisuke, as he scratched his head. "They're certainly…young."

Taichi unwrapped a piece of gum. "Dais, they're in the fifth standard. They're all young."

"Are you sure?" the maroon-haired man frowned. "Because that chubby kid back there has to be at _least_ seventh standard…."

Taichi sighed irritably, pocketing the gum wrapper. "Do you have the sign-up sheet?"

"Yeah," Daisuke gestured to his clipboard. "Let's see. Today, we're trying out fifteen kids."

"Oh, God," Taichi groaned. "That many?"

"Aw, but look at them. They're all so excited about being here," he cooed, waving at one bespectacled boy who grinned back at him, beaming.

The coach grumbled, "I hate children…."

"You know, that kind of attitude isn't going to get you very far in this job. And you need this job, Taichi. Might as well make the most of it, right?"

Taichi shot him a look.

Daisuke shivered a little, then stepped away. "Okay, let's just go down the list."

After a half-hour of conditioning, making the kids run laps and other simple exercises, testing their speed in short sprints and their reaction time, the tests on individual positions finally began. The process went slowly, taking up much of the now afternoon, since Daisuke also wanted to talk to each young player and jot down notes after each try-out.

Towards the end of the list, Daisuke wanted to compare the players they'd seen so far during a quick five-minute break. Taichi agreed, not particularly paying attention to the man's rambling of stats and scores, casting a wary glance at the bleachers that stood several yards away for the umpteenth time since the position try-outs started.

That was where all the parents and friends had been told to wait while their respective player tried out, but if it had been up to Taichi, he wouldn't have let them come out at all. He didn't need the added pressure, and he knew the kids were even more nervous under the audience's watchful gaze.

And besides, he was not in a good mood today.

The last thing he wanted to do was get into a fight with an over-enthusiastic parent over his decision about the child's place on the team (or lack thereof).

They resumed the try-outs with the next name on the list.

"Tachikawa!" the coach barked lazily at the cluster of eager kids.

A scrawny, short youth with wild light brown curls scrambled to his feet. He was outfitted in a spotlessly clean pair of new football shorts and matching jersey, with cleats that still smelled new.

Taichi faked a cough so he could turn away to roll his eyes.

_Great_, he thought. New outfits meant parents who cared too much for their own damn good.

"How are you, kid?"

"It's Kei," the boy babbled, bubbling over with his excitement. "I mean, you can call me Kei, Coach."

Taichi flashed a quick smile.

That was the worst thing about kids, he found: their instinct to humanize themselves. Already revealing his preferred nickname—now it was that much harder to pretend he didn't care when he sent the kid home crying after a failed try-out.

He crossed his arms over his chest.

"All right," he said, avoiding use of his name, "so you actually did very well in the conditioning. Good time, good reactions, good instincts. I like that."

The boy grinned, pleased.

"But now we want to look at your position interest. So what do you play?"

"Goalkeeper," said Keitaro.

Taichi nodded. "Okay."

The boy stared up at him, jiggling his left foot nervously.

Taichi glanced at him. "Okay, go ahead," he said, pointing towards the goalpost.

"Right!" chirped Keitaro as he raced over.

Taichi picked up a football and positioned it several feet away from the net. He called, "All right, I'm going to just kick a few balls at you and you try and stop as many as you can, all right?"

Keitaro nodded, bracing himself, forehead wrinkled with concentration.

"Ready?"

"Ready!" the boy nodded determinedly.

Taichi took a few steps back, paused, and then kicked the ball towards the left side of the net. The boy dived for it, desperate, but it sailed past his fingers anyway. Keitaro frowned, picking himself up.

Daisuke handed the coach another ball, telling the boy encouragingly, "It's all right. Just the first one. Try again."

Taichi kicked the ball again, this time to the right.

Keitaro lunged, gloved hands reaching, but once again he fell short.

The two coaches glanced at each other, but said nothing.

The balls kept coming, and Keitaro kept missing. After the fifth one, he was visibly showing signs of discouragement, letting it affect his efforts. Taichi asked if he wanted a water break, but the boy refused, insisting he finish the trial.

So Taichi kicked another football, this time with a bit too much force than he intended.

"Shit," he whispered to himself just as he realize what he'd done, watching as the football slammed into the boy's small face as his gloved hands grabbed for it.

The boy fell over on his back, coughing, clutching his first save of the try-out. He sat up, nose running red with blood, but grinning proudly as he held up the football.

With a nervous laugh, Daisuke ran over to the kid with concern, but Taichi stood back, impressed.

That was quite a save. A long time in the making, granted, but still very nice.

_Huh_, he thought to himself. _Maybe we've got something hidden here…._

It was only after Daisuke shouted his name for the fourth time did he realize someone was yelling at him. He turned around, confused, still lost in his thoughts, and saw the angry figure of a young woman marching furiously towards him, her face pale and honey eyes deadly. Taichi vaguely wondered why she seemed so familiar, but just as he started to recognize her face, he heard the boy behind him make an embarrassed protest.

His nose bleeding from the collision, Keitaro groaned, "Oh, no…."

Taichi stared, chewing on his gum. "Is that your mother?"

Keitaro hung his head. "Yes…."

"Uh huh," said the coach with a sigh.

Handing Daisuke the clipboard, he went forth confidently to meet her halfway across the field, amused by the visible way she tensed up at his approach.

He paused when he stood right in front of her. "Hello, stranger."

She eyed him with great distrust, and he knew she recognized him, too.

He winked, and she made that same appalled face.

But before she could launch into her overprotective mother rant, he quickly interrupted.

"He's fine. He's going to make a great footballer one day, so you should be very proud."

She lowered her voice dangerously. "Proud? You just kicked a football into my son's face."

"It's the beautiful game," he shrugged, refusing to take responsibility.

"I'm fine, Mum," Keitaro called from where he and Daisuke sat by the goalpost still.

She glanced worriedly at him, but Taichi stopped her from stepping around him to go to her son. She glared, "Get out of my way—,"

"You're interrupting my try-outs," he pointed out.

"You just hit my son with a football!" she repeated angrily. "I'll interrupt whatever the hell I want!"

"I said, I'm fine," Keitaro yelled again.

Daisuke nodded, adding in a raised voice, "The bleeding's stopped, Ms. Tachikawa. We're very sorry about this, but things like this happen in football. It's part of the sport. The fact that he's taking it so well just proves he's going to be a great player."

Keitaro looked vindicated, nodding his head in agreement.

She narrowed her eyes, sighing irritably.

Without waiting for her consent, Taichi took her by the arm and pulled her aside, out of earshot. "My assistant is right, Ms. Tachikawa. Your son's got something there."

"Yeah, a nosebleed," she snapped, shaking her head.

"But you saw the save he made," he pointed out. "Don't tell me that wasn't talent."

"It hit him in the face. Of course he would have caught it," she muttered.

He stared at her, frustrated. "All right, so apparently you don't want him to play football. Then why the hell did you bring him here today?" He glanced up at the stands, searching in vain. "Where's your husband? I'm betting I'd be able to make better sense over sports with a man who actually understands the politics of it—,"

"I don't have one," she interrupted rudely.

"How surprising," he muttered.

She pressed her lips together.

Well, not like he blamed the bloke.

If this was any indication of her normal behavior, he'd have bailed, too.

He stepped closer, "Listen, I'm not supposed to make decisions until tomorrow, but if it'll get you to shut up and stop embarrassing your kid by interrupting try-outs to wipe his little nose, I'll tell you right now that Keitaro will be playing for my team."

She stared at him blankly. "He will?"

"Sure," said Taichi. "On the reserves."

Immediately, the tone of the conversation changed.

In hindsight, he really should have seen this coming.

Overprotective mothers were the worst of the lot, always trying to convince him he was wrong.

Like, for example, the way this one exploded now.

"Reserves?" she hissed. "You are not putting my son on the reserves!"

"Hey, I'm the coach, all right?" Taichi snapped, wishing people would just swallow their pride and take favors humbly, especially when they didn't deserve them. "I'll make the decisions about my team and you can go home and—and file your nails, or whatever the hell it is lonely old women do these days."

She resisted the urge to bite him, replying smartly, "Your team? These are children! And this is a fifth-grade club sport team—not the Japanese National Team! You're supposed to be giving everyone a fair chance! I mean—how on earth did _you_ get to coach children?"

"The mystery of the century," he said sarcastically. "And I don't care what you think; this _is_ my team and I'm going to run it _my_ way. The normal way. As in, kids with obvious talent get on the regular team, and those who aren't quite as obvious warm the bench. Welcome to the world of sports, Ms. Tachikawa," he concluded, about to walk away.

She suddenly called out, "Listen, you jerk: I'm sorry if you were benched all of your childhood football career and you were cheated out of your dream of becoming a big multi-million dollar sports celebrity and instead got stuck coaching a silly little leaguers style school club, but my son is here with his friends to have a fun time learning about a sport he loves, and I'll be damned if you think I'm going to let your arrogant, egotistical, self-absorbed, wannabe football reject attitude get in the way of that—am I making myself clear?"

He turned around, meeting her gaze boldly. He was going to regret it, he knew, but the words slipped out before he could stop them: "Can I take you to dinner?"

"Oh, God, yes!" she cried without thinking. Then her eyes popped open wide like saucers. She protested at once, horrified, "Wait! No! That's not fair!"

He feigned innocence. "I'm sorry, what was that? You want your son off the bench? And you're willing to do anything for that, is that right?" He cocked his head, clicking his tongue. "Well, that is simply remarkable. You're an inspiration, truly, you are. If only more football mums could be like you."

She whispered, "You bastard."

"Call me Taichi," he corrected.

"This is not a date!" she yelled furiously.

He mocked a salute, smirking, and returned to the try-outs.

She bit her lip.

Of course, it wasn't.

It was blackmail. Pure, unadulterated, idiotic, cruel blackmail, only _disguised_ as what a third party might in the most unusual circumstance perceive as a….

_Oh, no._

She groaned, shutting her eyes. Just when she thought she couldn't sink any lower….


	3. Chapter 3

**How Sweet It Is**

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Signing her young son up for football seemed like a good idea at the time. And then she met his coach. And now she's wondering what she's gotten herself into. AU

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

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"You know, you and I have a lot in common."

Mimi barely heard him, warily eyeing a suspicious man in the corner of the bar, who looked like he could very well be a member of some organized criminal activity.

She shifted on her stool, nervously nibbling at another cashew, her drink left untouched.

But when his words finally registered, she glanced at him, eyebrow arched. "Do enlighten me."

He smirked, "Well, for example, we are both very strong-willed, stubborn, no-shit-accepted, thanks-but-no-thanks, where's-the-fucking-bill-my-soap-starts-in-ten-minutes kinds of people. Am I right?"

"Oh, Coach, I didn't know you followed the soap operas, too," she smiled sweetly.

Taichi finished his fifth drink of the night and waved at the bartender for another one. "My day never starts unless I get my fill of that American show, _General Hospital_," he joked.

"Really?" she eyed the mafia character again, cautious. "You seem more like the _As the World Turns_ sort of man to me…."

He rolled his eyes.

She ate another cashew. "And how exactly did you come up with that all in ten minutes? Because that's as long as we've known each other, if you add it all up, you know."

She shuddered reflexively when she thought of that argument at the tryouts again, and how it had led her to _this_. She was so furious and embarrassed with herself that she hadn't even been able to her friends about it.

And of course, she knew exactly how they'd react: Hikari would have been in tears laughing and Takeru would have probably already written a short satirical comedy about it, in which Mimi of course would play the role of the pathetic, ridiculed victim. And of course she would deserve it, because what idiot would get herself into this position—sitting in a dirty, crowded, loud bar to convince a football coach to let your son play on the team?

_The things parents do for their children_, she thought with an exhausted sigh.

"Not true," he said after a long gulp of his drink.

But before he could continue, he suddenly stopped and straightened, growing absolutely still.

She frowned, "What—?"

"Sh," he gestured furiously, leaning back on his stool.

She stared at him, mouth open.

"But—,"

He glared at her violently and then whipped his neck around again to stare hard in the opposite direction, tense.

She slouched forward, annoyed, lips pressed into a thin line.

But with his attention distracted, she now had time to study him more closely. And of course she had the right to do so. She had to make sure this man was to be trusted with her child, and Keitaro was everything to her, the whole reason she even breathed. So naturally, she ought to be picky about who she let near the boy.

And this man…well, she wasn't sure.

He was cocky and arrogant and devastatingly attractive, a combination that did not add up well.

She ought to know.

Her ex-husband was just like that.

Taichi waved a hand at her, still staring at something she couldn't see from her seat. He said hurriedly, "Okay, quick, lean into me like you're having a good time."

"What?" she asked, confused and surprised.

"Pretend you like me," he snapped quickly, turning sharply back on his stool to face her.

She was taken aback, leaning away on instinct, but he grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her forward. With a cry of alarm, she collapsed into his chest, her shoulder knocking painfully into the crook of his neck. She heard him grunt a little in pain, and she struggled up apologetically, trying to move away. But he wouldn't let her, slipping a hand around the small of her back and nudging her close. She tried to protest again, her fists pushing against his chest, but his grasp was too firm around her.

And so she found herself perched on the edge of the stool, one leg braced against his and the other dangling dangerously, so that she had no choice but to lean into him, a hand clutching the back of his collar. He bent down to brush his mouth over her temple, lips grazing her ear.

Eyes wide, she stared unblinkingly at a crack on the tiled floor, barely even breathing.

She could hear the rowdy, obnoxious roaring of the other customers in the bar, could still smell the distinct stench of cigarettes, beer, and cheap cologne, along with a few other unpleasant smells she didn't even want to identify.

But underneath all this, her senses were most focused on the musky, natural scent of his skin, his warm breath across her cheek, heart pounding in her ears.

She hadn't been this close to a man since—

_Stop blushing!_ she screeched at herself mentally.

And just as suddenly, Taichi let her go.

He sat back, exhaled slowly in relief, running a hand through his wild brown hair. Then he shook his head and downed the rest of his drink.

He fumbled for his wallet. "So thanks for that."

She hadn't even moved, still stunned. "What…just happened?"

Taichi smirked, "Ex-girlfriend."

Her eyes immediately looked to where he'd been staring before, and she barely caught a glimpse of a young, beautiful woman with long purple hair and bright hazel eyes hidden behind stylish artistic glasses, on the arm of a lean and tall dark-haired man. The woman's face was pressed into a strained smile and she seemed in a hurry to leave.

Just as the couple got to the door, the girl glanced coolly towards the bar.

Her eyes locked onto Mimi's and the latter froze at once.

The woman's eyes narrowed and flickered to Taichi, softening a little before she turned her face away smartly and walked off with her date.

Taichi sat back with a grin.

"Aha," he nodded, pleased. "I've still got it."

Mimi couldn't speak for a few minutes, horrified. "I—you mean—you were using me?" she stammered finally in astonishment.

He shrugged. "You needed a way to convince me your kid was good enough to play on my team. I needed a way to convince my ex-girlfriend that she is not over me. We both win."

She sat up straight, attentive.

"You mean," she interrupted eagerly, "you'll let Kei off the reserves?"

"Are you joking?" he snorted, amused. "Not even if this were a real date."

"But you said—,"

"I said 'a way to convince,' not something that would actually make it happen."

She glared. "Then I suppose your ex isn't nearly as jealous as you would have liked."

"Did you not see the look of deaths she gave you when she walked out?"

Mimi winced, remembering exactly that. "That doesn't mean—,"

"Yes, it does. I happen to know her better than you."

"Well, I know Kei better than you do, and he's a good footballer. Or at least, he would be if you gave him the chance." She hesitated. "Look, things haven't always been easy for him, and I admit I've probably got something to do with it, too. But I want him to look on this and have something good to remember. Can't you please bring yourself to help me out on this, just once?"

Taichi stood up, nodding his gratitude to the bartender. Mimi quickly popped another cashew into her mouth and followed him out the door, hands in her pockets.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" she asked, desperate.

He raised an eyebrow, coming to a stop at the corner as they waited for the light to change. "I can think of plenty, but you probably wouldn't like any of them."

She resisted the urge to make a snappy comeback, remembering why she disliked him so much, despite the generous exception he'd just made on behalf of her son.

Instead she gritted her teeth, saying forcedly, "I'll pay you for the extra lessons—,"

"No," he said. The light changed and they crossed the street.

She called, "I don't mind. If it means you'll give him a second chance—,"

"I can't be giving some kids special favors and not others."

She stopped walking. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Go home to your kid—,"

"I came here for him," she interrupted fiercely. "This is all for him, my whole life is his. And maybe that's something you could never understand, but it's my reality. It's the reason I make myself do stupid things like get blackmailed by idiots like you, just to impress ex-girlfriends and then chase you down the street just to make you listen to me. Because I know how ridiculous I look and how desperate I'm coming off, but I need Kei to trust me to be there for him, to be willing to do anything, and I have to, because I'm all he has left. And if he can't depend on me to help make his dreams come true, then—," she stopped, finally hearing herself.

She shut her eyes, biting her lip. "You know, just forget it—,"

He stopped as well, turning around to face her, separated by several feet of pavement.

Then he marched forward, bridging the gap, and before she could react, shoved a small, folded sheet of paper into her hands.

"What's this?"

"Look at it," he instructed.

She eyed him with great distrust, then carefully unfolded the small note.

Her jaw dropped open. "Is this—?"

"A love letter?" Taichi smirked. "Yes, it is."

She stared at it blankly, gaze falling over the familiar handwriting. "I wrote this—?

"To me," he finished for her. "Primary school. You were in the third standard, I was in fourth." He shook his head, "You once tried to kiss me on the playground. When I wouldn't say 'I love you' back, you hit me in the face with your little plastic purse and broke my nose."

She covered her mouth with a hand, horrified. "I don't even remember that!"

He laughed a little, touching the bridge of his nose. "You've got a fantastic arm. It still hurts when I sneeze. If only your son had the same kind of aim with his hands…."

She was still gaping at the letter. "You kept this after all these years?"

"Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?" he pointed out. "My mother found it in my book bag and thought it was too cute to throw it away. I was cleaning out my parents' apartment when they moved last to the countryside a few weeks ago and came across it. And then you signed up Keitaro for the tryouts and I recognized your name. Did you know you still have the same signature?"

She laughed. "Oh, God, this is embarrassing…."

He smirked again.

"When you moved away, you gave me that letter," he remembered. "On you last day at school. You followed me halfway home and then chickened out and threw it at me and ran away before I could do anything. I figured I should return it."

She smiled, looking down at the end of the note which read the usual way: "Do you like me? Check yes or no." It was blank still, untouched and probably unread for the past twenty-five years.

"Kids are really something else, aren't they?" she mused aloud.

He shrugged. "They're definitely something."

"So you're not trying to get back at me for breaking your nose, are you?" she asked carefully after a moment, teasing but nervous all the same.

He smiled and shook his head. "Not like this."

When she said nothing in response, he stared at her, pausing in the zipping up of his jacket. Then he looked away. "You were a nightmare in primary school. I hated coming some days because I knew you wouldn't leave me alone when I got there. You were the most annoying, frustrating, stupid girl I'd met, and I hated you."

He smiled, "And here you are again, getting annoying and frustrating and being stupid about things like football little leagues."

She didn't know what to say, clutching the wrinkled love letter in her hands tightly.

Taichi turned away, calling as he walked, "Bring him by next Tuesday." He muttered to himself, knowing she wouldn't be able to overhear, "If he's going to play substitute goalie, he's going to need all the practice he can get…."

Her eyes brightened. "Oh," she sighed, "thank you so much—,"

He waved it away, disinterested. "Just don't be late—,"

"He won't, I promise," she called eagerly.

She wasn't sure if he heard that or not, but without waiting for a response, she turned on her heels and literally ran to tell Kei.


	4. Chapter 4

**How Sweet It Is**

**

* * *

**

Signing her young son up for football seemed like a good idea at the time. And then she met his coach. And now she's wondering what she's gotten herself into. AU

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

* * *

"I think it's really great you're still coaching," his sister said late after dinner one day.

Taichi glimpsed Takeru nodding his agreement out of the corner of his eye and sighed, "I'm not doing this after the season's out."

Hikari chose to overlook that obvious fact.

"Those kids just need a healthy alternative to after-school activities, and football is perfect. It's a good thing you're doing."

He rolled his eyes. "Right."

"It is," she insisted. Then she paused, "You know, you could go into this full-time. And then maybe—,"

"No way," he interrupted. "I'm going back to professional football, Hikari." He met her gaze seriously. She didn't reply. "I will."

She smiled back at him and then turned away to take the empty dishes to the sink.

Takeru spoke up to fill the awkward silence, "How is your knee feeling, anyway?"

"Good, thanks," Taichi answered. "I go to therapy every day now."

"Every day?" Hikari's voice called from the kitchen in concern. She came back to the doorway to look at him face-to-face. Taichi tried hard not to look irritated while his sister didn't bother hiding her disapproval. "Taichi, the doctor said—,"

"I know what Jyou said," he interrupted. "I know, okay?"

Without another word, she disappeared into the kitchen again.

Takeru winced when he heard bowls and cups banging in the sink.

"Sometimes she's just too much like our mother for her own good," Taichi muttered.

His brother-in-law offered him a place on the living room couch and the two sat down lazily with their drinks, waiting for Hikari to rejoin them.

"How's the writing?" Taichi asked.

"Going well," Takeru answered.

"Hikari said you got another book deal?"

"Yeah. It's being finalized now, at least. We'll see how it goes."

Taichi chuckled, "If I liked reading, I would show more interest."

Takeru rolled his eyes. "Fair enough." He hesitated in all casual seriousness, supporting his wife on an issue he actually agreed with too, "But you know, you probably should ease up on working that knee too much too soon. Just in case."

Taichi bit back a snappish reply, knowing Takeru was genuinely concerned, as Hikari was. But he was tired of it. Just—sick of all this. His parents were bad enough—then add the annoying doctors and nurses and his nosy therapist and vigilante sister….

He sank low in the cushions. "I appreciate it, thanks," he lied blatantly.

Takeru knew perfectly well he was lying, but he smirked back anyway.

This was why Taichi approved of their marriage.

Then the doorbell rang.

Hikari went to answer it, just as surprised as they were. It was well past midnight, and having actual guests (besides Taichi, who never counted) was very odd.

She unlocked the latches and her jaw dropped in shock.

Keitaro was standing there in the doorway, face pale and eyes watery.

"Kei?" she stammered, instinctively reaching for him.

Takeru was on his feet, coming to see what the matter was. "What's going on?" he asked, alarmed.

"My—my mom—," Kei choked out, hiccupping through his tears, "she—she's—,"

"What happened?" Hikari demanded, holding him close to wipe his cheeks. "Where's Mimi?"

Taichi came to the door now, curious by the commotion.

He blinked in surprise, recognizing Keitaro. How'd the kid know Hikari and Takeru, though?

"I d-don't kn-kn-know," Keitaro cried. "She—she n-never came h-h-home and I keep c-calling but—but she d-doesn't answer and—and I d-d-don't know wh-what to do—,"

Hikari yanked him into a tight embrace, sinking to her knees to pull him down close, rocking him slowly. "Oh, sweetie, it'll be okay—I promise—,"

Takeru already read her mind, grabbing his coat from the rack on the hallway door.

Taichi took one look at Kei and immediately went after Takeru. "I know something," he told the blond as they ran to the apartment elevators.

"What?" Takeru glanced at him, pressing the button to the lobby hurriedly.

"I know something, about her—,"

"You know Mimi?" When Taichi gave him a look, Takeru made the connections and rolled his eyes. "Right, you're the coach. Why didn't I figure that out sooner?"

"How do they know you two?"

"Kei goes to Hikari's school."

Taichi stared at him, wondering how small the world really was.

Takeru went on for clarification, "Hikari was his teacher in kindergarten. Sometimes after school, when Mimi can't afford to pick him up or meet him, he'll come hang out with us."

Taichi looked away. "That happen a lot? His coming over here?"

"More than she would like, yeah."

The elevator doors opened to the lobby floor. Taichi went straight to the doors. "Just follow me."

They took the subway to the station near the football park, which confused Takeru to no end, but before he could ask, they had reached the practice fields reserved for community games and the children's leagues that Taichi coached with Daisuke. And as he predicted, there was a small lonely figure sitting at the top of the bleachers, her face in her hands.

Takeru stopped at the bottom, staring up at her, trying to catch his breath.

Taichi didn't stop, jogging up the large steps to reach her aisle.

He lingered on the stairs, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

She didn't move or react, still hiding her face in her hands, unmoving.

He went on, purposely being rude, irritated and angry, "Do you have any idea what your kid—your _son_—is doing right now? He's terrified—thinks you walked out on him or left or that something happened to you! What the hell is your problem? You don't do something like that to a kid! You don't do that—you just don't—!"

Takeru reached them by then, sitting down next to her. He pulled her into his arms, "Hey…."

She turned wordlessly and buried her face into his shoulder.

Taichi was still going strong, "I did you a favor by trying to teach your son—trying to help him out because you asked me and I actually thought you were being a good mother, that you actually cared enough to nag after me to help with one stupid detail about your kid's life and then you go and leave him all alone until fucking one in the morning—!"

She murmured something into Takeru's shoulder, and the blond turned his face, listening. He shut his blue eyes, "Oh, Mimi…."

Taichi stared. "What? What's going on?"

"Just leave it alone, Taichi," Takeru said quietly, rubbing Mimi's shoulder affectionately.

He gaped at his friend, "Did you forget the reason why we're even out here running around the city at midnight or am I the only one who—?"

"He wants him back," Mimi said suddenly, pushing Takeru back to glare furiously at Taichi. "And _I_ am the only one who understands what that means. _You_ can just fucking leave."

Taichi stared, silent.

He looked at Takeru. "What…does that mean? Who's—?"

Mimi rubbed angrily at her teary eyes, upset that she was still crying, "It means that my ex-husband thinks he can give Kei a better life, and that he wants custody now. It means that he's willing to fight to get it."

She shook her head violently. "And I—I can't handle this now—," she burst into new tears and Takeru wrapped his arms around her.

"We'll figure this out; we won't let it happen," he repeated over and over.

"I can't do this—I can't just lose him—,"

Takeru persisted, "You know this country—the courts favor the mother and we'll fight it if we have to—nothing will happen, I promise—,"

She tried to nod, but her face just crumpled again and she covered her mouth with a hand, breathing shakily.

Then she gasped, standing up so suddenly she tripped on the bleacher one step below and fell forward.

Takeru yelled and Taichi grabbed her elbow, hauling her back awkwardly.

She gripped his shirt in a fist frantically, "Oh, my God—I left him alone—Kei—,"

"He's with Hikari," Taichi said to calm her down.

She stared at him, blankly. "Right. Of course. And—and why are you here?"

"Hikari's my sister," he said in a low voice, "and Takeru's my brother-in-law."

"Right," she whispered. "Of course."

Takeru stood up. "Let's go home."

"Right, of course," she said for the last time, just as her legs gave way.

Taichi went down with her, surprised, trying to hold her up while she struggled to get a firm footing.

"Oh, my God—I am such a horrible mother," she cried again, burying her face into Taichi's chest.

He held her awkwardly, uncomfortable by the show of intimacy, and glanced at Takeru for help, hoping to pass her off to the blond.

But the latter was already heading down the bleachers, gesturing for Taichi to follow quickly with Mimi, who still clung to him weakly.

So he said uncomfortably, patting her head and wishing he was more capable of the mushy empathy stuff like Hikari was, "Not all the time."

She laughed until she cried again, letting him lead her home.


	5. Chapter 5

**How Sweet It Is**

* * *

Signing her young son up for football seemed like a good idea at the time. And then she met his coach. And now she's wondering what she's gotten herself into. AU 

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

* * *

The day before Keitaro's first game, Mimi left the restaurant early to speak with his coach. 

She knew asking more favors of the man might push Taichi over the edge, but she didn't think he'd have a problem with this one. In fact, it was more of a help to him than it was for her and Kei.

At least this was what she kept telling herself.

She was late for pick-up, and she rushed to pay the cab driver, furious at herself. Why could she never manage to do things right?

Still muttering angrily, she stumbled past the bleachers and stopped short.

Kei was there, running around in his dirty uniform, laughing as Taichi chased after him. They were both running after the football, attempting to trick one another while trying to score a goal.

Then Taichi cheated, grabbing Kei around the waist and hauling him over his shoulder, sending the bell flying into the net. He crooned a victory chant, fist in the air, while Keitaro yelled foul, laughing.

Taichi turned around and saw her. He at once returned Kei to the ground, gesturing to Mimi.

Kei spotted her and grinned happily, running to give his mother a hug.

She kissed his curls, "I think someone needs a bath."

"I caught a goal today, Mum! I caught it!"

She laughed, "That's wonderful, Kei—,"

"And Coach says I might be able to play tomorrow, for the first half!"

"I'm very proud." Then she ushered him to the bathrooms at the foot of the bleachers. "Now go to the bathroom and wash up, and we can go home, okay?"

He agreed, galloping off.

She turned around to face Taichi, who walked over now with he football under his arm.

"You don't have to let him play," she blurted out bluntly.

He stared. "What?"

"I mean," she stammered, "you—all these extra lessons have been great, and I really appreciate it, but the thing is—,"

"I didn't spend these past five Tuesday afternoons for you to just change your mind the day fore the game," he interrupted in annoyance.

"I just don't know if he's ready for a real game right now. What if the other kids are bigger and stronger and what if he gets hurt or if he loses or if—,"

He raised an eyebrow. "If any of that happens—and I'm not saying any of them will—but if, then you shouldn't be surprised because all of that is included in the sports world. It's supposed to happen. So you want to tell me why you really don't want him to play tomorrow?"

She hated that he could read her so well when they barely knew each other at all.

Really, this was just plain scary.

Even her ex-husband could never figure her out this well (which would explain their divorce to an extent).

So she lowered her voice, arms crossed over her chest. She frowned at the grass at her feet, avoiding his gaze, "Tomorrow is the meeting with the lawyers. I've tried time an time again to move it or do something, but nothing's working. I don't have any other choice."

He was silent, staring at her.

"I want to be here for the game, but the appointment might make me miss it. If he doesn't play, then he won't be as disappointed in me as he usually is," she admitted.

"You don't disappoint him," he replied automatically.

She glanced up, surprised.

Taichi shrugged, "Kids don't hold grudges like that. Adults do, of course, but Kei won't remember this in ten years."

"Yes, he will," she insisted. "And he'll remember the fact that I let him down again—,"

"Or he'll remember the hundreds of other games you went to," he interrupted.

She fell silent, still wary.

"Takeru has a video camera, doesn't he? We'll tape what you miss, and you can watch it together afterwards. And he'll have all these stories to tell you and you'll shower him with attention and _that_ will be what he remembers, Mimi."

She sighed, defeated, unable to argue out of the logic of his suggestion.

"Should I assume you're quite familiar with that process, since you seem so confident about it?"

He smirked, "My parents were busy, too."

"I don't want Kei to turn into you."

He rolled his eyes. "Too late. He already thinks I'm God. He's a smart kid, I'll give you that."

She made a face, disgusted by his ego. But she couldn't help smiling wryly. "But please be careful. He's still young and very sensitive and I don't want him to—,"

"Football is a _sport_," he reminded. "It's always going to haves its ups and downs, and he's going to learn that sooner or later."

"So I should be happy if he comes home with a broken nose again?"

"It's a dangerous sport."

"You're the one who's—," and she shrieked, ducking when Taichi tossed the football at her.

"You were supposed to kick it back," he laughed, amused by the way she scampered away, nearly tripping on her heels.

She gaped at him, horrified. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"Come on, kick it back," he taunted. "Maybe if you could play the game, it wouldn't scare you as much when he plays."

She stepped away, convinced he was mad.

"For all the times you wanted to bash my head in for being such a bastard," he smirked. "This is your chance to get even. If you can get a goal past me, I'll keep Kei out of the game until you think he's ready."

"That's not fair!" she protested. "You can't use my son like that!"

"You're using him, too," he pointed out.

She grumbled, eyeing him angrily. Then she pulled off her jacket and apron to her waitress uniform, dropping her purse with them on the ground.

"Okay," she smiled back sweetly. "But we're changing the rules. If I make a goal, then you can't go to your therapist tomorrow."

He froze. "How do you know about that?" he demanded in a low voice.

"Takeru."

"I'll kill him," he growled.

"He also told me how Hikari's worried that you're taking it too fast and that you might damage your knee even more if you keep going to therapy everyday without resting once in a while."

He gritted his teeth, "That is none of your business—,"

"What happened to you?" she asked softly.

He was quiet, staring at her. Then he turned away, "Score a goal and maybe I'll tell you."

"Or I could just ask Takeru."

He spun around. "Don't you dare—,"

She laughed, picking up the football. "Why don't we let the game decide?"

He shrugged. "Fine with—hey!" he yelled when she kicked the ball straight past him. "You started early! That's cheating!"

She stuck out her tongue at him, chasing after the football.

Refusing to lose—and especially not to a woman—he ran after her, managed to reach her side. She tried to shove him back, and then tripped on her heels and went flying face forward into the grass. Her pink and white skirt was stained with grass, but she crawled back up, panicking when she saw him dangerously close to the goal. He was about to send it sailing smoothly into the net, pausing to wink evilly at her.

"No!" she cried, charging.

Kicking off her shoes, she jumped on his back, tackling him to the ground. The football rolled away from them, safely stopping just outside the goal lines.

"It's in, it's in!" he insisted.

"No, it's not!" she said, refusing to let go as he tried to shake her off.

He grabbed her hands, prying them off his neck, and forced her off him. She fell on her back, rolling over, and he pinned her down, grinning. "Cheaters are always losers," he said.

She rolled her eyes and ground a fistful of grass in his face.

"Hey!" he spit out the grass, scrubbing his eyes.

But she was already done, squealing, and went straight to the football.

She barely tapped it with her toe when she felt his arms wrap around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Crying out in protest, she kicked violently, fighting back, and inadvertently hit the football again.

It rolled past the lines and into the goal.

She shrieked, victorious. "I won!"

"What!" he peered over her shoulder and gaped in astonishment. But he recovered quickly. Spinning her around, he dropped her unceremoniously on the grass and insisted, "No, you didn't. _I_ won."

"Excuse me?" she demanded, on her feet now. "_I_ kicked the ball!"

"And I was the one holding you when you did, so I won. I kicked it through you."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

"Don't be such a sore loser—,"

"You are unbelievable! What ever happened to the ups and downs of football that every good footballer must learn and—,"

He grinned, "Yeah, that was a total lie."

She kicked his leg, "You jerk—,"

"Fuck!" he hissed in pain, bending over and clutching his knee.

She realized what she'd done and gaped in horror. "Oh, my God, Taichi, I am so sorry, I didn't—," then she stopped, realizing that he was actually laughing.

Smacking his shoulder, she glared, "You are such a child!"

"Hey, you're the one who fell for it—,"

"I'll kick you for real," she threatened.

"Go ahead," he taunted.

Far from amused, she made good of her threat and kicked him. But just before her foot could hit his knee, he bent and caught her foot in his hands, yanking her down. She gasped, stunned, and fell to the ground, scratching her elbow. Still holding onto her foot, he sank to his knees, smirking.

"An 'A' for effort," he promised.

She scowled, annoyed now, and tried to pull her leg away.

But he kept his hold, fingers running slowly up her ankle and behind the curve of her calf. She couldn't move, frozen where she lay, propped up on her elbows. His touch felt hot on her skin, and she could feel her face reddening, but she kept quiet, staring right back into his calm chocolate brown eyes, her breathing shallow.

He bent closer, hand sliding up to her knee. He paused there, hovering over her, and she held her breath, watching. She said nothing when she saw him coming nearer, going numb when she felt his hand inching up her thigh.

And the second his lips brushed over the curve of her knee, she gasped loudly, as though finally realizing what they were doing.

She kicked his knee for real this time, unintentionally of course, as she panicked to get away from him.

He winced, sucking in his breath.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He waved her apology aside, face too twisted in pain as he slowly stretched out his leg to verbally respond. She bit her lip, not knowing what to say or do, standing awkwardly.

"Mum!" Keitaro suddenly called.

Her stomach flipped over, horrified at the idea that her son might have seen what happened, but when she spun around she saw that Kei had only just emerged from the bathroom. She shivered at how close that had been, sick at the thought of the mess that would have been created if he'd come out earlier.

"What's wrong, Coach?" Kei asked, noticing the pale look on Taichi's face.

Taichi brushed it off, slowly getting to his feet. He leaned on his good leg, but smiled at Kei reassuringly. "Just tripped teaching your mother how to kick a football."

Kei looked stunned, gawking at Mimi. "Mum knows how to play a sport?"

She twisted his ear playfully, pulling him into a one-armed hug. "Hey, watch it."

"Are you sure you're okay, Coach?" Kei asked worriedly.

"I promise," Taichi said, bending over a little. "I'll see you tomorrow, kid."

"Yes, sir!" the boy vowed proudly.

Taichi smiled, brown eyes flickering up to Mimi.

She immediately looked away, feeling the heat creep up her cheeks in a light blush, and guided Keitaro off the field, her leg still tingling from his touch the rest of the way home.


	6. Chapter 6

**How Sweet It Is**

**

* * *

**

Signing her young son up for football seemed like a good idea at the time. And then she met his coach. And now she's wondering what she's gotten herself into. AU

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

* * *

"Where are you going?"

In the middle of walking to the door to his apartment, Taichi stopped and turned around, looking guilty, like he'd just been caught in a crime. "Nothing—no where—," he stammered uncharacteristically.

Daisuke and Takeru became suspicious at once. The former narrowed his eyes, "You're up to something."

"What? No, I'm not—,"

"Yes, you are. I can tell." Takeru crossed his arms over his chest.

Daisuke added, "You're up to something and it involves romantic relations."

Taichi rolled his eyes. "You're both insane."

"Come on, tell us who it is."

"We're going to find out eventually, you know," Takeru reminded.

"And it'll be better for you if you tell us instead of us snooping around," Daisuke agreed.

Taichi disliked that the two of them were becoming such good friends when they'd only recently met. He'd introduced them a few weeks ago when Hikari went home to visit their parents and Takeru was bored and wanted to go out for a drink, where they'd just happened to run into Daisuke. They'd clicked ever since, but unfortunately it was starting to get annoying for Taichi, especially when they were learning how to gang up on him. They were starting to become like the kid brothers he'd never had—or wanted.

"Will you two grow up? I haven't dated since Miyako and I don't have any intention to do so until I get back into football. I can't afford the distraction." He winced, "Especially after her…."

Takeru and Daisuke glanced at each other, determining whether or not to believe Taichi's argument.

"You're lying," they accused in unison.

"You know what? I don't have time for your idiocy," Taichi said, shaking his head as he gave up trying to defend himself. He walked to the door again, fingers on the handle as he called, "You two can finish watching the game, but don't drink all the beer, please. I'm poor."

"Wait, you forgot your bag—," Takeru noticed, picking up the green duffel bag Taichi carried to his therapy sessions.

That's when Daisuke noticed something familiar sticking out of one of the exterior pockets. He leaned over and snatched it up before Taichi could panic and grab for it. The assistant coach's jaw dropped open. "Isn't that Kei's jersey?"

"He forgot it at practice," Taichi explained easily, snatching it and stuffing it back into the duffel bag.

"Keitaro never forgets his uniform," Takeru said. "He loves that thing, probably more than the actual sport of football. He'd never just leave it—,"

"Well, he did," Taichi snapped, irritated. "And so I'm just going to be the considerate coach that I am and simply return it to him after therapy."

There was silence.

Taichi dove for the door a second later and Daisuke let out a cry of protest, leaping from the couch to stop him. Takeru had already galloped to the door and plastered himself in front of it, blocking the exit and wrestling Taichi away. Daisuke made a valiant grab for the bag and clutched it to his chest, running to the other side of the room.

"Hey!" Taichi yelled. "Give it back!"

"Taichi," Takeru groaned, "please tell me what I'm thinking isn't true."

"It's nothing—and it's none of your business!"

"You stole her son's jersey just so you could have an excuse to go to her apartment!" Takeru cried. "How low can you possibly go?"

"I didn't steal anything," he protested. "I just borrowed it. And now I'm returning it."

Daisuke was grinning from where he cowered in the corner of the living room, ready to jump out of Taichi's reach if he came any closer. "Well, I for one have to admire your creativity. You've obviously thought a lot about this."

"Not helping!" Takeru barked at him.

He was ignored as Daisuke went on while Taichi glared at him furiously, "And I personally don't blame you. But you have to be careful with single mothers. They're like the jackpot of all single women—especially when it comes to the bedroom—but one mistake and you've screwed them over for the rest of their lives—,"

"Not helping," Takeru hissed at him. He turned his attention to Taichi. "Seriously, please tell me my suspicions are untrue."

"They're not true," the man snapped in annoyance. "All right? I don't care anything about her. She's a control freak and a pain in the ass and she cares too much and is a danger to herself and the rest of society. And why would I ever want to get involved with a woman with baggage anyway?"

Takeru didn't appear entirely convinced, but he reluctantly nodded in agreement. "Good. Because—and no offense, Taichi—you're exactly what she doesn't need right now. Not after what she went through with her ex-husband at least, and you two are scary similar sometimes. You'd be wrong for her."

Daisuke grew interested. "What's the deal with her ex anyway?" he asked, curious.

Here Takeru began to look uncomfortable. "I don't know the whole story…."

"Well?"

"I've met him once, when they were separated, before the divorce was finalized. I'll give him one thing—he's great with Kei. The kid adores him, even if he doesn't see him as much."

"Why not?" Daisuke frowned while Taichi tried hard not to look interested.

Takeru shrugged. "Well, the divorce was really bitter, for one thing. But mostly, it's his job. He's a reporter, and an anchor for that news show—you know, that one with the giant spinning globe behind the desk?"

Daisuke's jaw dropped. "_Him_?"

"Yep."

"I love that newscast!"

Taichi glowered and Takeru smirked, "Which would be why Mimi changed back to her maiden name. She didn't want to be bothered by the association anymore."

"I didn't know he was married…" Daisuke went on, thinking aloud. "Well, I guess he isn't now. I can't believe Mimi was with that guy! That's so cool! It's like knowing a celebrity!"

Takeru rolled his eyes. "See? That's exactly what Mimi's trying to avoid now."

"Are we done?" Taichi snapped. "Can I have my bag back now?"

Daisuke handed it back while Takeru warned again, "But don't tell her I told you—,"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he brushed it off and left for his therapy session, where the therapist remarked on his unusually bad temper and let him leave early to clear his head.

So he went to subway station to wait for his train and banged his head a few times against the wall. That earned him both a slight headache and suspicious looks from fellow passengers.

This was ridiculous.

It really was.

It was stupid and dumb and childish—God, he was acting like he was fucking fifteen-years-old again. It was so _stupid_. If he ever had downtime where his mind could wander, it always wandered to her. Her and her mommy-clothes and hair pulled up in a messy ponytail and impatient, exhausted habits. She was so annoying and bossy and hot-tempered—he couldn't remember a single conversation of theirs that didn't involve her eyes flashing furiously in anger and his hands fisting on instinct while he tried not to explode (literally).

But then he saw how she was with Keitaro. And it was like…well, she was different.

He wished things would go back to primary school where he could easily shrug her off and ignore her.

What he wouldn't give to be able to do that now.

Except he hadn't expected her to grow up like this. He'd never thought she would end up like this. Or that the roles would have switched so dramatically.

Of course, it all wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't gone and felt her up like they were back in secondary school with teenage hormones and—

Oh, God, he'd gone insane. He'd just gone insane. That was is. He was insane.

He hated these things, these feelings and infatuations. It led to stupid stuff like stealing a child's football jersey just to have an excuse to check out the mother. God, even saying that made him sound like a creepy stalker. How pathetic was that?

And then all he had to do was close his eyes and remember that split second when his lips had touched her soft skin, his fingers running along her gentle curves. That split second when she hadn't pulled back, but let him explore, testing the boundaries. And who knew what would or could have happened if maybe Kei hadn't shown up? Or if she hadn't kicked him?

Yeah, that last part wasn't so wonderful, nor was knowing that had been her first reaction.

But it didn't matter anymore.

He was going to put a stop to this. Just march right over there and hand back the stupid jersey and be on his way. Maybe even call Miyako up, see how she was doing.

Yeah, that's what he'd do.

Who knows? Maybe there was still something left between him and Miyako. Things had ended rather abruptly, and after that night at the bar—well, clearly there were unresolved issues. And Miyako had been…well, it was worth a shot. He was sure he had something left for her. Pretty sure.

So he turned around again and used the information off his team roster to find Mimi's apartment. It wasn't as difficult as he'd thought it'd be, even despite the fact that it was in the more confusing part of town. She'd managed to snag a pretty decent apartmenf, considering the appearance of the surrounding ones.

Determined to hurry this up and get on with his life, he rang the doorbell.

A minute later, there was a scurry of feet and the door burst open.

"Oh, hey, Coach!" Keitaro chirped in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I think someone forgot this in the locker room," Taichi said, handing him the jersey and praying to God that the boy's memory was as weak as his football skills.

"Wow!" Kei grinned, grabbing the jersey. "I've been looking everywhere for this. Thanks, Coach!"

"Who is it, Kei?" Mimi called from somewhere inside the apartment.

Taichi at once attempted to look casual, leaning against the doorpost in a very nonchalant way. But she never came into the hallway, and he could only peer so far without hurting his neck trying to ever so carefully look for her.

"It's Coach!" Kei yelled back.

"Stop yelling!"

"You started it!"

Taichi chuckled as Kei glanced at him with a quick smile, running to his room to put away his jersey and leaving Taichi in the doorway. He hesitated and then stepped inside the flat, closing the door behind him. He took his time glancing around, appraising the place. It was about as neat and tidy as he expected, with obvious evidence that a child lived here as well. Toys and games and cartons of food were scattered here and there, along with books and papers and magazines. He laughed aloud when he saw the mountain of shoes near the front door, all of which belonged to her, save for one pair of boy's tennis shoes and one pair of dirty cleats.

"What are you doing here?" Mimi asked from behind him and he whirled around, caught off guard.

He made a vague gesture towards Kei's room. "He forgot his jersey."

"Oh." She stared at him, pausing. "Well, thanks."

"You're welcome."

She stared at him. Then she turned around, stalking into the kitchen. "You can leave now."

"Can I ask you a question?"

He surprised even himself, but now it was out and she was staring at him oddly again. He regretted it, but tried not to let it show. She frowned. "Okay."

"How did you end up like this?"

"Excuse me?" she sounded offended.

He added, "I mean, how did you—of all people—end up with a divorce and a kid, twenty-five years after we last saw each other?"

"I grew up, Peter Pan," she said mockingly. "And I don't understand how it's any of your business."

"I just find it interesting," he followed her into the kitchen. She seemed like she wanted to kick him out (literally), but she managed to restrain herself and he leaned over the small island as she rummaged through the refrigerator, preparing dinner. "I never would have imagined you like this."

"I was eight-years-old the last time you saw me," she pointed out.

"So?"

"So you can't just assume a person's life by how they behaved when they were in primary school."

He smirked. "Then this is what you dreamed about? I thought normal little girls usually fantasized about fairytale lives."

"Taichi, what do you really want?" she sounded exasperated. "I don't have time to reminisce with you—I have dinner to make and bills to pay and chores to do and then tomorrow I have—,"

"You never told me how it went," he interrupted.

She was taken aback. "What?"

"The meeting. With the lawyers. You know, about the custody problem," he lowered his voice on the last sentence, as though wary of Kei jumping into the kitchen and overhearing what he wasn't supposed to hear just yet.

She opened and closed her mouth several times. "How—what—why do you care?" she finally stammered. "What does it matter to you anyway?"

"So I'm just not supposed to care?" he countered, annoyed.

"It has nothing to do with you! I'm his mother, you're just his football coach—your concern for his life ends at the goal! You're not supposed to care about where he—,"

"I'm not worried about Kei, I'm worried about you," he interrupted angrily.

She stopped.

He sighed irritably. "You know what I mean." When she didn't say anything, he said, frustrated, "Forget it. I'll leave now."

"I never asked you to worry about me," she said suddenly.

He frowned. "People don't ask people that," he reminded.

Her cheeks blushed pink. "You know what I mean."

He stared at her, standing in the doorway while she still lingered by the open fridge. The cold air was making the her shiver slightly, but she wouldn't budge. So he walked towards her and closed the refrigerator door. She still hadn't move, not even when moving to shut the door let him unintentionally brush his hand over her elbow.

She flinched.

This time, he drew back, dropping his arm.

But he didn't move, lingering there, watching her. She hadn't moved either, staring right back. Her face was just inches from his, and he noticed with faint amusement how surprisingly short she was, how she smelled like a strange mixture of bathroom cleaner, curry, and something else he couldn't quite name but made him want to find out.

"Can I take you to dinner?" he asked again. "Make up for the last time?"

"You don't have to do that," she refused.

"No, I don't have to," he agreed.

She said nothing, hesitating.

Without another word, he turned abruptly and left the kitchen. He made it half-way to the apartment door before she called out, "Kei's spending tomorrow night at a friend's. His first sleepover." She came to the entrance to the kitchen, speaking casually, "He's excited about it, getting all scatterbrained in his eagerness. That's probably why he forgot his jersey at practice."

He forced a guilty smile. "Yeah, that's probably it…."

"So that's what's happening here…tomorrow…" she trailed off.

He took a wild guess, "So tomorrow's good for you then?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "No, it's not."

"Okay," he said slowly. "Then…?"

"Well, it might be," she changed her mind, stumbling awkwardly over her words. "Or it might not. It's still up in the air. The life of a single mother. Always busy," she explained. "The work never ends."

He nodded. "Then I'll call you."

She jumped, alarmed. "What?"

"I will call you," he repeated slower.

"Oh," she crossed her arms over her chest casually, "right. Well, okay. Yeah, that's fine. That'll be…great."

"Great."

"Great," she nodded.

"I'll see you," he said and let himself out.

If he weren't so self-conscious, he would have waltzed all the way home.


	7. Chapter 7

**How Sweet It Is**

**

* * *

**

Signing her young son up for football seemed like a good idea at the time. And then she met his coach. And now she's wondering what she's gotten herself into. AU

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

* * *

Mimi, on the other hand, was far from the waltzing mood.

She bundled Kei up for his sleepover, double checked all his bags and walked him to his friend's family's apartment nearly an hour early. The boys didn't care, although his friend's mother, Momoe, did seem a little put off by the way Mimi lingered, conspicuously checking all the safety features of the flat. In an attempt to distract the nervous woman, Momoe invited her to the living room for tea and they sat in awkward silence, listening to the faint sounds of video games being played in the next room.

"I've planned the whole night," Momoe said cheerfully. "I promise I won't let them play video games all day. Is it all right if I take the boys to a movie and bowling?"

Mimi nodded, a little surprised. "Yes, that's fine."

"Listen, Mimi," she hesitated a little. "I know this is hard, but you're only going to be two floors above us."

Mimi winced. "I know…."

Momoe smiled, knowing exactly how it felt as a mother to deal with things like this. But Mimi had other worries on her mind. The lawyers had explained to her that the conditions her ex-husband wanted. He'd insisted that as Kei's father, he had the parental rights of custody, but he only wanted joint custody. He wanted Kei to live with him on weekends, on holidays, for vacations. He wanted to be a part of his son's life.

Mimi was turning into an emotional wreck by just having Kei spend one night in an apartment two floors down. What was she going to do if he spent a whole weekend across town?

Then, this morning, her lawyer had called to suggest that if she would only come into the office and speak with her ex face-to-face, then maybe they could come to an agreement without resorting to a real court battle. She'd agreed only because Kei had been in the room at the moment, and she didn't want him to overhear anything. She had yet to explain what was happening to him, too. She was too afraid that he might want to go back to his father.

Besides, she didn't want—

She stopped, distracted, breath hitched in her throat.

"What's wrong?" Momoe asked, leaning over to refill her teacup.

"I…" Mimi stammered, and then recovered, "I mean, is this your family?"

Momoe glanced at the picture frame on the mantle. She grinned. "Yes. That's my brother and my little sister, Miyako."

Mimi shut her eyes.

_Great_.

"Listen, I have errands to run and—,"

"Oh, of course," Momoe nodded, rising to her feet to show her friend out.

Mimi quickly peeked into the boys' room to say good bye to Kei, resisting the urge to smother him with motherly kisses, knowing full well it would embarrass him. Instead she blew him a kiss and he groaned back, still embarrassed, and she laughed, heading to the door. Momoe promised to call if anything happened and Mimi went back to her apartment and immediately set herself to doing as much busy work as possible.

Why did the world have to be so small?

Of course, Kei's best friend would be Momoe's son, and of course Kei's football coach would be her primary school nemesis, and of course Hikari would be Taichi's sister, and of course Momoe would be Miyako's sister, and of course Miyako would be Taichi's….

God, why did she even care this much?

This was stupid!

She didn't have time for—

The phone rang.

In the middle of folding laundry, she froze, lingering awkwardly as she stared at the phone. It rang three more times before the answering machine took it. She held her breath, waiting, and then groaned aloud when her mother's shrill voice started speaking.

"Mimi, sweetie, I wanted to remind you that your father and I will be in town in two weeks and that if you had any time at all in that busy life of yours, you might want to consider squeezing in two minutes for the people who brought you into this world—,"

"Hi, Mama," Mimi answered, picking up the phone.

"Oh, so you are home," her mother replied in vaguely disguised curtness.

"I couldn't get to the phone in time. I'm sorry. And no, I haven't forgotten. Kei's very excited to see his grandparents again."

"Well, we're very happy about that, seeing as how we so rarely are graced with the presence of our only grandchild."

Mimi tried hard not to roll her eyes. "Mama, please, let's just put the past in the past, okay?"

"Darling, I just don't understand why you had to bring this kind of life on yourself. You are so stubborn, you know that? Just so impossibly stubborn, and now—,"

"Mama, you don't understand—,"

"I don't understand? Sweetie, he needs his father."

Mimi immediately felt silent, guilty and angry.

"Every boy needs his father."

She sighed, sinking onto the couch, free hand over her forehead. "I know…."

Her mother seemed to sense her misery and decided not to exploit it for once. Instead, she spoke gently, hesitantly, "Perhaps…perhaps you should consider the joint custody option. Or at least, let him have more visiting rights. Think of Kei. Wouldn't this be what he wants?"

Mimi couldn't answer, her eyes squeezed shut.

The thing was, she didn't want Kei to want to be with his father. It was selfish and stupid, but she didn't want that. She'd been the one by his side day after day, from the very beginning. Why wasn't she enough?

"It's not like he doesn't have adult male role models," Mimi said after a moment. "There's Takeru, and his football coach, and—,"

"A football coach does not substitute for genuine paternal guidance, Mimi."

"I know that, Mama, but Taichi's different. Kei really looks up to him. And he even offered to give Kei extra training sessions so that Kei can play in the games, instead of on the reserves. And—,"

"Just because you like him doesn't mean Kei—,"

"I don't!" Mimi protested too dramatically. "I don't like him, I don't! He's terrifically arrogant and cocky and impossible and I could never consider ever being with a man like that—I really couldn't!"

Her mother said lowly, "I didn't mean that kind of 'like'."

She felt incredibly stupid.

The kind of stupid only a mother can make you feel.

"Mama, I have a lot of work to do, so can we talk later?"

Fortunately for her, her mother always went into denial when important moments rolled around. It must be where Mimi got it, too. "Of course, sweetie. I'll send you the details for our flight in an email. Give Keitaro a kiss for me."

"I will. Bye, Mama."

"Goodbye, dear."

As soon as she hung up, though, the phone rang again. Ticked off, she snapped into the phone, "What now?"

"You let me in?"

"What?" she cried, stunned.

Taichi was smirking, and she could literally hear it. "I mean, into your apartment. So keep you wild, dirty fantasies to yourself and open the door, will you?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I figured you couldn't think of an excuse if I was already here," he said.

She hated it when he acted smart.

"I can't. I'm sorry. I'm busy."

"You're lying, about all three."

"Taichi, I'm serious—I don't have time for—,"

"That's why I brought dinner to you."

She paused, "What?"

"So are you going to leave all this food out in the cold wind all day?"

"What kind of food."

"The good kind."

She tried to bite back a smile. "Okay."

But when she went to open the door, she happened to glance just beyond his broad shoulder to see Momoe turning the corner from the elevators, walking towards her. She shrieked and grabbed Taichi's arm, yanking him violently into the apartment and slamming the door shut after him. Before he could demand what was going on, she dragged him forcefully to the hallway closet, sliding the door closed and covering his mouth with her hand.

"Sh!" she hissed at him.

She listened carefully as the doorbell rang. She could hear Momoe's voice calling for her. Closing her eyes, she prayed and hoped and a few minutes later, Momoe's shoes could be heard walking away from the apartment.

Mimi sighed, relieved, and leaned back, letting go of Taichi.

"Mimi."

She opened her eyes.

"We're in a closet."

"It would appear so."

"Is there something going on?"

Mimi shushed him, "Quiet!"

Taichi rolled his eyes. "We're the only two people in the apartment."

She ignored him, listening again. "I have to be absolute sure she's gone."

"Who?" he asked.

"My neighbor."

He raised an eyebrow. "Exactly how many enemies do you have?"

"Shut up, will you?"

"Why does it matter if she's here or not?"

"Because it just does! A lot of gossip goes around this apartment building, and the last thing I need is for people to find something else to use against me."

He said nothing for a minute. "So, you'd rather have no one know that I'm here, is that it?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Then why the hell did you make it seem you were interested in me if the very idea of it all humiliates you?" he asked, annoyed.

Her jaw dropped open. "I never seemed interested in you! You were the one interested in me!"

"And yet we find ourselves currently trapped inside your very small, very cramped closet?" And as if to prove the point, he stepped closer to her, and she stumbled back, hitting the wall. He kicked aside some of her shoes and pushed the sleeve of a coat out of the way.

She leaned back, craning her neck. "You were the one who bribed me, tricked me, made fun of me—,"

"And you were the one who kicked me, stalked me, injured me and—,"

"I never hurt you!"

"You broke my nose!"

"Stop coming closer!"

"What are you going to do?" he taunted. "Kick me again?"

"Don't think I won't," she threatened weakly, because now he'd cornered her and she was losing the ability to speak coherently when his lips were this close to hers.

"I think you won't," he said.

"I might."

He smiled, "You won't."

She breathed in lightly, slowly, when she felt his hand coming to a gentle rest on her waist. "Can we go back to primary school, when we hated each other and life was easy?" she whispered.

"You didn't hate me," he whispered back. "And I've got the note to prove it."

She blushed, looking away.

He touched her chin, turning her face. "And I was nine. I hated all girls. It was nothing personal."

"Then why can't we keep it that way?" she murmured.

His fingers twirled on a lock of her hair. "Because it's personal this time."

Her eyes fluttered shut when his fingers brushed over her forehead. Very carefully, he replaced the touch with his lips, following her hairline down to her eyebrow, her nose, cheek, earlobe and neck. The small, sensible voice in the back of his head suggested at one point that maybe this was a bad idea, but all of a sudden her fingers were slipping through his hair and her lithe frame was pressed so intimately against him that he didn't find it very easy to listen to the voice.

His hands went up to catch her elbows, pulling her closer. She moved on instinct, arms wrapped around his neck. He let his mouth wander down more, running over her collarbone and shoulder, kissing everywhere he could while she leaned her chin back, breathing shallow.

She murmured against his neck and he obliged, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and tugging teasingly. He kissed her chin and she interrupted, "Just kiss me already."

He grinned into her cheek, "Nope."

She opened her eyes. "What?"

"I'm taking my time," he said, tongue flickering against her neck.

"Taichi—," she tried to protest, but he was just so goddamn distracting, his lips pressed onto the underside of her chin, his hands roaming down her curves, and taking an awfully long time indeed.

* * *

She awoke to something pressing into her side, but when she tried to move, the pressure wasn't released. In fact, she could barely move at all. Her toes were the only part of her legs she could wiggle at the moment, the rest of her body trapped under a thick tangle of bed sheets and something unusually heavy. Heavy and strong. She tried wiggling some more, squirming as she yawned and stretched.

Her elbow smacked sharply into something that let out a yelp of pain and she immediately froze.

"Ow," a low voice whimpered near her ear.

She turned her head and saw Taichi rolling off her and covering his nose with his hands in pain.

She blinked several times, disorientated. "What happened?" she breathed.

"What's with you and trying to break my nose?" he snapped back moodily.

She stared at him for a minute.

And then burst out laughing.

"What?" he demanded, annoyed.

"Nothing," she giggled, "it's just—I think I subconsciously have it in for you."

"Well, you've subconsciously got something for me," he smirked slyly.

She rolled her eyes and tried to sit up, searching for her slippers. She couldn't find them, and she frowned leaning over to peer underneath the mattress. Her slippers were no where to be found. And her bedroom was a mess.

"What exactly did we do?" she asked slowly.

He fingered the bridge of his nose, wincing. "Which time?"

She stared at him blankly. "What do you mean 'which time'?"

"How many definitions to 'which time' are there?"

"I remember the closet," she thought aloud. "And then the bedroom. That's all."

"The kitchen table. And the couch—,"

"And the bedroom," she repeated.

He hesitated. "No, I think we just fell asleep then."

"That's ridiculous."

"How's that so strange?"

"We were everywhere except a bed? I would never do that. I never even did that with my ex."

He was curious now. "Never?"

"It's been a long time," she said vaguely.

He winked, "I could tell."

She arched an eyebrow, and he kissed it. She tried a feeble protest when he tugged her back down, enjoying the sensation of his bare skin over hers as he pulled himself over her. His hands were calloused and rough, his touch too strong and forceful at times, but somehow she thought it wouldn't have felt as amazing without all of it.

Strange as that sounded.

And it sounded awfully strange indeed, considering—

"Mum?"

Mimi's eyes snapped open.

"Shit," Taichi hissed.


	8. Chapter 8

**How Sweet It Is**

**

* * *

**

Signing her young son up for football seemed like a good idea at the time. And then she met his coach. And now she's wondering what she's gotten herself into. AU

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

* * *

Over and over she played the scene in her head: 

He leaned over the table, looking her straight in the eye, and told her he missed his son.

And she knew he wasn't lying, wasn't pretending or putting on a show to get media attention or better ratings for his newscast. He was being honest. He was being sincere. He was being vulnerable.

Then he said he was prepared to fight for more visitation rights, that he was ready to battle the infamous Japanese family court and its laws regarding the matter, and that he'd do anything to get back into Kei's life. It was his right, as Kei's natural father. He didn't just need it, he wanted it. Couldn't she understand that?

She hadn't answered right away, blinking back tears.

Instead, her fingers played with the strap of her handbag and she nodded at no one in particular and said, "Maybe…there's something we can work out."

And as soon as she said it, she knew she'd made the right choice, even if all she wanted to do was curl up on the floor in the fetal position and sob her mummy heart out. She felt like she had finally turned a corner in her role as a mother, but she just wished it didn't have to hurt so much. Kei was _her_ son. And even though he had been a wonderful father, he'd never been a wonderful husband. And she just found it so difficult to separate the two.

But that was unfair to Kei, and she had to admit that at least.

She had no right to keep Kei from his father.

So then, without thinking, she told him about the last game of the season.

And to her astonishment, her ex-husband replied that he knew all about it. He'd been following the games in the newspaper. He never came to them because he knew she wouldn't want him there, so he'd followed Kei's football career from a distance. But if she was all right with it, he would love to come to the final game. For Kei, he added quickly, and maybe even catch up on old times with the coach.

That last part took Mimi by surprise.

"What?" she asked, stunned.

He explained matter-of-factly, "Yagami was the star of my college's football team. Right before graduation he signed for the national team. He's amazing, Mimi. Or he was, before he snapped his knee in a game. And you know the professional sports world—doesn't matter how talented you are; when it's over, it's over, and there's never any going back." He smiled, nostalgic. "It'll be nice to see him again. It's been years since we hung out last."

God must hate her.

He must just, really hate her.

She left the meeting soon after and went home to stick her head in the freezer. She had to stop when Kei came home from practice, all giddy with news about tomorrow's final game and how the coach was going to let him start. She sent him straight to the bath and thanked Hikari for walking her son home. Hikari promised that she and Takeru would both be at the game tomorrow to support Kei, and Mimi smiled back, inwardly in despair.

First her ex and now Taichi's sister were going to be there—

_God, why?_

Okay.

She could do this.

She could.

She was going to be a mature, adult woman about all this, and she was going to do it impeccably well.

She was not going to go with instinct.

She was not, for example, going to take one look at Taichi and jump him, no matter how strong the desire was and had been since he'd first kissed her in the hallway closet. And it had been strong—it had been more than anything she'd felt before, because no one had ever kissed her like that before. No one had ever kissed her like that, or touched her like that, made love to her that way before. And, God, it had all been so—

Well, it had all been a nightmare, that's what it'd been.

Taichi had barely enough time to dive under the bed before Kei walked in, bubbling with news about his sleepover, and once Mimi sent the boy for a shower, Taichi managed to sneak out of the apartment at lightening speed. It all went by so quickly that they didn't have time to talk about what happened. And they hadn't talked since.

In fact, tomorrow's final game would be her first time seeing Taichi since their last…encounter.

She still didn't know what she was going to do.

A part of her was so awakened by the whole experience that she never wanted it to stop. But another part, the greater part, knew where her responsibilities lay. She was a single mother, first and foremost. She couldn't afford to act like that, to just give in as easily as she had that night. It wasn't like she was young and reckless anymore; she was far from young, though she hated to admit it, and she was definitely the farthest thing from reckless now.

She had to have control. For God's sake, she was a mum now. And that was her most important role, more than wife (or rather, ex-wife), friend, daughter, or lover. And that role required quite a bit of self-control and restraint.

Therefore, no throwing herself into wild fantasies at the first chance she got. It was best to avoid all contact, actually. Physical, emotional…she better not even look at him. Or think about him. And especially not think about his lips on hers, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her waist—

Oh, dear.

This was going to be much more difficult than she thought.

Why did she always seem to get herself into the worst possible situations?

* * *

Why did he always seem to get himself into the worst possible situations? 

It was worse enough that he'd been having a difficult time covering up the fresh limp in his bad leg; now he had to actually be within thirty yards of her without so much as even thinking of suggesting anything of what had happened that day. Normally, this would have been simple for him. He was perfectly used to interacting with his one-night stands a day, week, or even years after them. So he was sure he could deal with her, too.

Only that wasn't exactly what happened.

See, with Miyako, he'd been able to fantasize about the millions of ways he could get revenge for being dumped so suddenly, but it wasn't like that with Mimi. Firstly, there was no dumping, nor was there anything to be dumped from. They certainly weren't in a relationship, unless you counted the bitter exchange of threats and accusations that substituted for adult conversation as a kind of relationship. Secondly, they'd been interrupted before they could properly discuss what exactly they had done and, more importantly, why they'd done it and, most importantly, if there was even the slightest chance of them being able to do it again.

And thirdly, why the hell was it so hard for him to keep from staring at her?

Jesus Christ, it wasn't even like she was doing anything spectacular! She was in flannel sweats and a T-shirt and a blue jacket that was far too big for her. She sat up on the second row, near the goal lines, obviously, and she'd thus far done a marvelous job of showing no earthly indication of ever acknowledging his existence (thus proving that she was struggling to keep from thinking about him just as he was of her).

Of course, what was probably keeping his attention was the man who sat beside her.

He couldn't believe it was him, his old college friend. Or that he was _him_, her ex-husband, Kei's father. Or that Taichi remembered all the Friday night dorm parties with that guy, and all their friends, and now here they were again. It really was a ridiculously small world, wasn't it?

Shaking his head, he forced his attention back on the game. The kids were doing well, and he was glad to see all that work put into their training and practice finally being put to good use. It was already near the end of the game and though they were losing spectacularly, they were still playing hard.

And then one of the opposing team player's ducked past the midfielder and shoved a defender out of the way to make it straight to the goal—and to Kei. Taichi immediately ran to that end of the field, still behind the lines, with Daisuke fast on his heels.

"Steady, Kei!" Daisuke yelled encouragingly.

The boy looked at them, catching Taichi's eye. The coach grinned at him, swallowing his nervousness, and nodded. Kei braced himself, bending over in the left corner with his arms spread out in defense. His opponent didn't even hesitate, sending the ball flying towards the net. Kei dove for it, Taichi shut his eyes—and Daisuke let out a cry of joy, throwing his clipboard to the ground and running to Kei, who gripped the football between his gloves in total amazement.

Taichi opened one eye in disbelief.

They had still lost, but all of Kei's teammates were currently swarming him, whooping and jumping around just as excitedly as the winning team was now that the game was over.

Taichi turned around and saw Hikari and Takeru climbing down the steps of the bleachers. He looked up to where they had just left and saw Mimi enveloped in a bear hug by her ex-husband.

He immediately looked away again, holding his breath.

Daisuke helped round up the kids, pairing each one off with his respective parent as people crowded by the sidelines and waited for their little footballers. Kei's parents finally came down to stand by Hikari and Takeru. All four of them waved eagerly as Kei galloped over with Daisuke. Everyone was congratulating him while he threw himself first at his mother, and then his father, grabbing both of their hands.

"Dad, that was for you," he chirped happily.

Mimi smiled, watching as father and son embraced.

Then Kei glance back, "But I couldn't've done it without the coach helping me."

Taichi forced a weak smile and walked over to the group. His old college friend held out a hand, "Fancy seeing you again, Yagami."

"Likewise," said Taichi, shaking his hand.

Mimi was doing an impressive job of looking everywhere except at the two of them, something that Takeru and Daisuke picked up. The two glanced at each other, which Hikari then noticed. She eyed her brother, who assumed a clueless expression. Shaking her head, she patted Kei's shoulder.

"How about a celebratory dinner?"

"Wow, really?" Kei's eyes were wide.

His father hesitated, hand on Kei's shoulder. "Actually…I was wondering if Kei would like to have dinner…with me. Would you like that Kei?"

The boy was quivering in excitement, looking like he'd liked that very much, but all he did was look at his mother. Mimi, for her part, managed to bite back first instincts to smile at the two of them. Her ex looked relieved, mouthing a silent "thank you" after she gave her consent, "It's your choice, Kei."

So Kei went to have dinner with his father, and Mimi agreed to come to dinner at Hikari and Takeru's apartment, an event to which Taichi and Daisuke were also invited. Daisuke at once agreed while Taichi made some sort of vague response that didn't mean anything either way. But it wasn't until they were all getting ready to leave and heading their separate ways that Taichi noticed Mimi lingering back.

So he stayed back, too.

The others went on ahead.

"Hey," he said after a minute, walking in step with her.

She barely glanced at him.

"Listen, Mimi—I know you're upset," he tried to say, but she suddenly interrupted.

"You know that I'm upset?" she repeated, glaring at him. "What could you possibly know?"

"Mimi, just because he's back in Kei's life does not mean Kei's going to love you any less."

She stopped walking, standing still on the sidewalk.

He gently touched a hand to her elbow, turning her to face him. "I promise."

She looked like she was going to say something, but then she stopped herself. Scrunching up her nose, she ran fingers through her hair nervously, shook her head, sighed, and then suddenly launched herself at him, face streaked with tears. He was stunned, unmoving, as she grasped his shirt tightly in her fists, face buried in his chest. Then he finally came to her senses and pulled her close, arms low around her waist. And even long after she'd stopped crying she didn't let him go, and he just held her tighter.

He turned his face, whispering in her hair, "Now I realize I'm twenty-five years late, but if you still want me to return the letter, I will." He hesitated, "If I can find it again…."

She laughed into his shirt, and it tickled his neck.

"Hey, I'm serious," he insisted.

"You?"

"I like you, Mimi."

She stopped giggling at once.

"I like you," he said again.

Mimi pulled back a little. "Oh, Taichi. No, you don't."

He stared. "Huh?"

She pushed him away. "Let me explain to you how it works. Guys like you don't go for girls like me. You used to, of course, back when we were younger, but now we're older and we have baggage and needs and issues and responsibilities that you're not interested in. That's why we would never happen. Things like that one night, Taichi—that was never supposed to happen. That's exactly why we're not supposed to happen. And that's why you don't really like me, because you need someone much younger, much happier, with less problems and isn't tied down and can give you what you want and won't injure you or hurt you but will actually be happy with you because guys like you could never be happy with—,"

He kissed her, hard. "I don't know any other woman I'd rather have break my nose than you," he said into her mouth. "So don't ever think like that again."

"Okay," she breathed.

"Okay," he said. He moved to kiss her again, but she interrupted.

"Wait," she said.

"Mimi—,"

"I just, I mean—I want this to be different. I don't want to repeat that other night." He raised an eyebrow, and she blushed. "Well, I mean, I do—I just—um, you see, this is all…very scary for me. I have to figure this out myself and you know, it'll take me some time to get used to this, to get back into this. And then there's Kei—and it's just…I need to take this slow. Okay?"

He smiled, taking her hand. "So we'll go slow."

"Okay," she smiled back weakly. Then her eyes widened. "But—but what are we going to tell Kei?"

He slipped an arm around her shoulders, walking her to the subway. "One crisis at a time, sweetheart…."

* * *

And so slow was how they went. 

In hindsight, Taichi was rather glad they were behaving age-appropriate about the whole affair.

It meant he didn't have to work extra hard to show off for her, trying to be impressive, but that he could keep his bad leg resting on the coffee table while they sat around on a Saturday night watching a made-for-television movie, like they were tonight, nearly six months later while Kei was at his father's apartment for the weekend and Mimi had invited her boyfriend over for a romantic dinner for two.

It meant he could be himself for a change, and not have to put up a show or be on his best behavior, because she could see right through his every move, like the time when she figured out that his attempt to buy Kei a mountain bike was actually his excuse to buy himself one, too.

It meant that maybe this wasn't going to end like every other one of his relationships. It meant that maybe this was going to be the good kind of boring, the kind of boring that in the end, wasn't actually boring at all.

Whoever said romance had to be Hollywood-style all the time, anyway?

He was perfectly fine with real life.

Before he knew it, she'd fallen asleep.

It wasn't bad at first, with his attentions so captured by the sappy television movie. He definitely would not be this interested if she were awake, but considering the fact that she was out like a light, sagging heavily against his shoulder, he figured it was safe enough to watch with undivided focus. But then the credits rolled and he was awfully glad no one was around to witness him sniffling a little at the very lovely ending—oh God, "lovely"? When the hell did he get so disgustingly mushy over a chick flick?—and he scrubbed at his eyes in embarrassment, stomach growling in hunger and wondering when they could leave for dinner with his sister and brother-in-law.

Then he glanced at her. She was still curled into him, sleeping peacefully.

He wanted to say she looked beautiful even when she was asleep, but then he'd be lying like an idiot.

Her mouth was hanging open a little, the left side of her face scrunched and wrinkled as it squashed into his shoulder, and she was snoring lightly.

That's right, snoring.

It wasn't exactly a turn-on.

Very carefully, he eased her off him and coaxed her to the other side of the couch. She whimpered a little when he tried, though, and he immediately stopped, not wanting to deal with an emotional woman. Conflicted, he sat in silence and debated what to do:

1. He could ignore it and keep watching more television, knowing she'd had an awful day and was probably much more exhausted than he was, but his shoulder was paining because her head was surprisingly heavy and he wouldn't be able to keep his attention off the steady throbbing for very long.

2. He could just shake her off and be quick sprinting to the door before she could attack in revenge for being so rude about waking her, but his knee was aching like it usually did around this hour at night and he wouldn't be able to get very far if he ran. That, and she was a lot easier to deal with when she didn't want to bite his head off.

3. He could put her to the bed.

Having no choice but the last one, he prepared himself for a moment and then went to work.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close, so that she slumped against his chest. Her hair tickled his nose and he was momentarily overcome by the unspeakable desire to either burst into tears of laughter or sneeze like hell, but he miraculously managed to suppress both reactions.

He paused, listening, but she didn't make another move. Deeming it safe to continue, he pulled her arm to settle around his waist so it wouldn't hang down when he actually picked her up.

Good gesture, bad move.

She hooked her arm around him on instinct, fingers grasping his shirt, nuzzling her nose into his chest as she snuggled closer.

He sighed.

_Great_.

But Taichi wasn't born a quitter, and he wasn't going to admit defeat to a girl, so he kept going. Moving carefully, he slipped his other arm under her bent knees, and then slowly stood up.

Goddamn, she was heavy.

Puzzling over how she could be so tiny and lithe and still feel like she could break his arms if he didn't move quickly, he stepped around the take-out cartons on the floor and headed to the bedroom.

Then his foot caught on the fringes of the carpet and he flew forward, eyes wide in horror. Grabbing her around the waist, he pressed her against his chest tightly, protectively. Her feet dropped to the ground and she hung over his arms, toes barely scraping the floor, hair falling in front of her face, her back pressed into his chest. He held his breath, heart pounding, gripping her hard.

She was still asleep.

How the hell was she _still_ asleep?

_No woman can be worth this_, he told himself sternly, taking several deep breaths to calm himself.

Groaning, he carried her blindly through the narrow corridor of her apartment. They passed Kei's room and the bathroom, before finally making it to her bedroom. He kicked the door ajar with his toe, struggling and heaving her inside. Her head kept lolling around, hair falling all over his face, but she hadn't even stirred, completely gone.

He staggered to the bed, bending over awkwardly to lay her down on the mattress. She was facedown in the pillow, unmoving, limp as a rag doll. With a frustrated sigh, he physically turned her over on her back. Her fair was a tangled mess, and he tried to brush the locks away from her face. She lay sprawled on her back, legs spread and arms flailed at strange angles, so he tried to make her comfortable by pulling her arms straight. He tucked both legs under the blanket which he pulled up to her chin. He stared at her for a minute, then pulled the blankets loose, not wanting her to get too stuffy under the covers later.

Finally, he realized how stupid he was being and pulled the blankets back again, slipping under the covers next to her. He pulled her close against him, and she responded out on instinct, fingers entwined in his.

He kissed her hair.

He could get used to this.

To the fights and make-ups (especially the make-ups), to the pathetic attempts at romance when they were both too exhausted to really try and the attempts that usually ended up like tonight, with him carrying her to bed and watching her sleep and feeling pretty stalkerish and holding onto the slim chance that she might wake up just long enough to fool around a little before it was time to go pick up Kei from his father's. To her. To who he was when he was with her.

Yeah, he could definitely get used to this.

Then her leg twitched in her sleep and she hit his bad knee. He grunted, wincing, rubbing his leg.

But the part where he always ended up in pain, they were going to have to work on….

* * *

**The End**


End file.
